Rider of Rohan
by SilverTrio
Summary: Lyris has been masquerading as a male Rider of Rohan for six years six years in which her realtionship with Eomer, her marshal, has been kept secret. They have risked no chance of detection, practicing rigid abstinence. Now, when death looms, will they at
1. Chapter 1

"And you, Liomen, son of Eormis, I salute you now as one of our finest riders. None ever sat atop a horse with such grace." Theoden smiles and raises his mug, the other Rohirrim following suit. "Hail Liomen!"

I smile, and incline my head in thanks. _None of them know who I truly am_, I muse. "I thank you, my king," I announce in a deep voice, dropping to a knee, "but no recognition is needed for one Eorlingas. A Rider of Rohan is loyal, and fights for the one who leads him simply out of love." I move my eyes slightly, and I find Eomer's on mine, silent, yet full of depth and emotion. I love him.

"Well said," Theoden congratulates, clapping me on the shoulder. He turns to his nephew, bestowing upon him an approving nod, despite his grim countenance. "You've made a wise choice. Liomen will serve you well- I sense the bond affection between marshal and Rider is strong."

"The strongest of bonds," Eomer answers, and he and I both know that Theoden cannot even begin to guess the true depths of our relationship. What would Theoden say if he knew a woman knelt before him! What would he say, furthermore, that his nephew, the only one who knew my secret, had kept this knowledge from him for years?

What would he say if he knew said woman and said nephew were in love?

These questions enter my mind as Theoden takes my arm, hoisting me to my feet. "Still light as ever," he says with a fatherly smile. "We will need to fatten you up some, Liomen, if we are to ever find you a wife." Eomer is in the process of taking a drink, and I hear him choke on his ale at that one. "Or have you already found a girl?"

"There is no woman, my lord," I say with another smile, "that could ever tear me from my duty to my lord." Eomer seems a bit relieved as Theoden laughs.

"Well said, Rider, well said."

I receive a clap on my shoulder as the King of Rohan walks off, moving to socialize with other Riders. He moves, trying to encourage those whose hearts would fail, those who have lost hope as Aragorn and his three companions ventured into the land of the dead. Tonight, however, all are merry, taking heart in the last comforts available before our possible death.

Eomer crosses to me, offering me another mug. "I don't have to worry about a woman stealing you from me then?" he teases as I take a drink, his hand 'accidentally' brushing mine. "Or should I be afraid?"

I quaff the mug in a few moments, turning a smirk to him. "No woman, nor man, could ever hope to sway my loyalty," I assure him, pressing the cup back into his chest. His eyes fall on my lips, and I purposely lick the ale off of them. I can hear him swallow, and I nearly laugh. "Why, Eomer," I say with mock innocence, "what would your uncle say if he saw you looking like that at one of his Riders?"

"You, in the next room, now."

I laugh as Eomer steers me out, and as we leave, I feign drunkenness, pretending to be losing consciousness as he takes me up to my room. Once the door is shut, however, I stand up as his lips close passionately on mine. I lock my arms around his neck, kissing him back as his hands run the length of my back. We remain locked like this for a few moments, but when Eomer's head descends to my throat, I push him back gently.

His eyes are questioning as he looks up, tilting his head. "I thought you like having your throat kissed?"

"I do," I say, embracing him again, "And that's exactly why we have to stop. Do you have any idea what would happen if someone found us here? What would they think?"

"...Lucky prince?"

I force myself not to smile. "Eomer... Nobody knows Liomen son of Eormis is really Lyris, daughter of Eormis. We have to keep it that way- we can't take chances, not now." I hold his face in my hands, kissing the tip of his nose. "We ride for Gondor in the morning."

"Which is exactly why I need you tonight." There is something different in his tone, and I look to him, into those deep brown eyes that have for so long been my salvation. There is indeed need there, and a fear I can tell was born of no self-interest. He fears he will lose me, just as I fear I will lose him. "I love you, Lyris," he says quietly, catching my hands in his. He produces something from a pocket, and slips it on my finger, lifting it to touch his lips. "This war has been fought for a ring," he murmurs, meeting my eyes. "I hope to end it for one."

I look to the ring on my finger, and back up to him, my eyes welling slightly. "Eomer," I whisper and his lips kiss my tears. "Eomer, this means...If we live... I won't be able to fight at your side anymore.. Who will- who'll be your second? Who will support you, who will.. Who will..."

He silences me with a kiss, his hands sliding up until his thumbs are resting on the inside of my elbows. "I don't care," he says in my ear, his lips brushing against my cheek. "I don't care- all I want is you, Lyris... For the rest of my life." I can feel my resistance slip away as his arms encircle me and pull me closer. "I fight this war for you. If I lose you..."

"Eomer..."

"If I lose you, Lyris... I can't go on without you," he manages, and I can't take it anymore.

I kiss him. So many times have I heard this speech from other Riders towards their women, a bet to get what they long for, but with Eomer, it is different. He is a man of honor, one who I know would give his life for me if the occasion called for it. How many times have we begun this dance, only to stop where we are now? There have been times I've wanted to break the rules, and times he has.

Now we both want to break them.

I kiss his cheek, standing on my tiptoes to reach his ear. "If one of us loses the other... If you lose me... I want to die knowing I have loved you as much as I could," I say softly, and I feel the wetness on his face as he buries his head in my shoulder. This is hard for him, I know- it is hard for my marshal to show emotion where he has always been strong and stern, a wise leader. Now, there is only me to see him break.

"Lyris.." His eyes search mine, a worry there. "If this isn't what you..."

He is silenced as I lay a finger to his lips. My heart is beating impossibly fast; I love him so much, and I've wanted to take this step since the night we were forced into the caverns by marauding Orcs. I am twenty-three; six years I've been waiting for this. Six years have we loved each other, keeping our relationship secret. "I want this, Eomer," I tell him, pulling him gently to the bed in the corner. He sits on the edge obligingly, pulling me to him as I lean into his chest, the of us just holding each other. My fingers find the leather strip that holds his hair in place, and I tug it out, letting the mane that so reminds me of a lion cascade down his shoulders. He pulls my own wheaten locks out of their binding. He then reaches up under my shirt and pulls off the linen hiding my femininity, and I draw a breath as my lungs fill for the first time in days.

"Lyris... the door..."

I nip his ear in response. "All taken care of."

It is not long before all the other necessities are taken care of, and as we become one, I can't help but remember the first night he found out my truth.

I was a young Rider, newly accepted to the ranks. My father Eormis was wounded from battle, and my mother could no longer support them with her needlework due to a creeping illness that gnarled her hands. The family of a Rider is always provided for by the King, and in most families, a Rider has a son to enter the ranks and ensure his family's security. If the family has nothing but female descendants, they still receive a pension- so long as the Rider was either released or forced to leave due to grievous wounds.My father, unfortunately, left the service of the Eorlingas after a threat from my mother to leave if he neglected his wife and daughter anymore. For years she supported her family with her beautiful needleworking skills, an art that can be seen on the tapestries in the Golden Hall and on the King's robes. Time took its toll on her, however, and by the time I was seventeen, we were out of options and I was still unmarried.

To me, there had only been one option. I'd known much of the way of the Riders from what my father had taught me, and after binding my chest, mixing soot onto my complexion, and darkening my usually wheat-colored hair, I looked enough like a fair-faced boy to be accepted into the service, despite claims that an Elvish nature resided somewhere in my blood. I changed my name from Lyris to Liomen, and I was assigned to a younger Eomer's service. He was new to the service of a marshal, given mostly inept young ones to work with. He and I formed a fast friendship and worked quickly to turn our recruits into warriors.  
It wasn't long until we had the finest fighting force in Rohan.

Then Theoden sent us to scope out the situation near the Gap- reports were that Wargs had been spotted, and Eomer led five of us, myself included, to investigate. We were ambushed by Orcs, and Eomer and I were forced to take refuge in a cave while the rest of our group headed back to Rohan. I had taken several heavy, though non-mortal hits, and Eomer- my best friend by now- insisted on treating them as I lay.

"No," I begged him as he reached to my tunic. "Please, I'll be fine, there's no need-"

We were best friends, and an uneasy tension lay between us. I loved him even then, and I grew more concerned as I came to realize just how tense he had become around me. I am compelled to note that Eomer later confessed to me that the following scene was particularly difficult for him. It is hard enough for a man to admit to having feelings for a woman, but by his own word, he had begun to have feelings for someone he thought was a man, and that was unnerving for the proud Rohirrim. I shied away from his touch, and he hesitated, but then he finally spoke.

"It's all right, Liomen," he assured me, concern in his eyes. "I'm just going to treat your wounds, but I need you to take off your shirt. That's all, I swear."

"Eomer, please, it's not that..." I got up and began to stagger away, but Eomer was adamant. I found myself suddenly tackled from behind. I struggled, but Eomer managed to pull it off, revealing the tight linen that wrapped me from my heart to my waist. The linen was gashed from Orc blows in a few places, and it had lain the linen open, revealing soft and supple skin in some places rather than a hard, firm chest. His eyes widened and I pulled away, self-consciously covering myself.

"Please," I whispered, my back to him and my voice losing the deepness I had lent to it. "You must understand... I.. I can explain."

"Liomen..." There was disbelief, hurt, and relief all in the same word. He was staring at me, and I turned to face him, wincing at the shocked expression he wore. "You're a woman," he said haltingly, eyes traveling my form. "All this time... A million signs..."

"It's Lyris," I whispered, lowering my eyes. "I'm sorry, my lord- I never meant to lie to you... I meant every word I said when I took my oaths... I just... I'd never have a chance unless..."

"Liomen- Lyris-" I looked up, and suddenly he was there, in front of me, staring into my face. "I should be furious," he said softly, his hands lightly gripping my shoulders, "but I'm not. In fact..."

"In fact what?" I asked, not daring to look away. I'd seen Eomer lose his temper with those who dared deceive him, and now I was sure I'd find out what it was like first-hand.

"In fact..." his voice was stumbling, unsure. "I want... I want to kiss you."

"What?"

"I'm sorry." He turned away, obviously having a difficult time. I touched his arm, and he turned to face me, this time our places switched. He was the unsure one, the guilty one, and I was completely bewildered. "I think I love you," he said, swallowing."I've loved you since we became best friends... even though I thought you were a man... I thought I was sick, perverted... Falling for my best friend, in love with another man... And now..." He looks to me, and I'm not sure if he's relieved or angry. "And now, I find out my worries were all for naught. I've fallen in love with a woman."

"I've loved you too." My eyes met his, and for once I knew he was looking at Lyris, not Liomen.

He stepped towards me, and instinctively I recoiled. "I just want to see you as a woman," he said quickly, and I stood my ground as he approached again. His fingers reached up to my hair, and he unbound it, letting it fall around my face. I then wiped the soot from my face and loosened the linen just enough to give me shape.

Eomer regarded me for a moment, and then his face came close to mine, and we shared our first kiss.

"Lyris..." My eyes open slightly, and I lift my head from his chest lightly. Eomer's eyes are hardly open, and I can see he's struggling to awaken. I smile and touch his cheek, meeting his lips in a kiss. Six years. And we've come such a long way.

"I love you," he says in a breathy voice, his eyes opening even more. A few hours of paradise, and the moon is still shining. His hands are on my waist, and mine softly caress his chest as I listen to him. "I want you to know that... that I mean it. None of this... None of this was purely... purely for..."

"I know." I slide up on top of him, capturing his mouth for my own, kissing him passionately enough to let him know exactly how I feel. "I love you too, Eomer," I assure him as he groans with longing. Rather than let his torture fade into content, I kiss him harder, forcing him to draw a shuddering breath. "Death may come tomorrow."

"Not for us," he whispers fiercely, and his kisses me so aggressively I half wonder if he's had a vision. I return it with equal fervor, and we submit to the force of love again.

I thought Eomer's world would collapse the day Grima Wormtongue duped Theoden into exiling his nephew.

We'd watched the king slowly decline in health as Grima increased in power. Despite the warnings Eomer and I both gave, Grima became Theoden's closest advisor, intruding even upon the deep bond Eomer and Theoden shared. We long suspected the silver-tongued snake had been bought by Saruman the White, and when Theodred went missing, we knew it.

Eomer found his body. We'd been searching for days, and then we found the remnants of battle. Uruk-Hai bodies lay everywhere, dead Eorlingas among them. Next to Eomer, and with the possible exception of Eowyn, Theodred had been my closest friend. In the last year of his life, Theodred had become the confidante of Eomer and I- imagine the prince of Rohan's shock upon walking in on his cousin and his lieutenant kissing. After much explanation- and some discreet proof- Theodred often arranged for his kinsman and friend to have a moment alone, claiming we were 'discussing options' and the like. He also became a bit of a therapist, acting with patience and amazing diplomacy whenever Eomer and I disagreed. Now, as I scanned the bodies for the face of my friend, the call of Eomer was a welcome sound.

I followed Eomer into Meduseld upon our return, both our faces grim. He was later to confess to me he had never seen me look more masculine, and in truth, I was unnerved when a few girls stopped and stared as I marched past. Upon entering, one gaze in particular worried me; that of my friend Eowyn. As I said, none but Eomer and Theodred knew my secret; unfortunately, that also meant that I was the object of a few girl's affections- Eowyn's especially. It is unnerving enough to be loved by a man when he agonizedly believes you to be a man as well; it is even worse when you are loved by a woman who mistakenly thinks you are a man.

I knelt as was expected, then rose to my feet again as Eomer presented a helm recovered from the Uruk-Hai. Eomer and I hadn't spoken since he'd found his cousin's body, and as his powerful voice spoke in quiet, but forceful tones. I could hear the storm brewing behind his calm facade, and when Grima Wormtongue raised his voice, I knew trouble was brewing.

I dared not speak as Eomer hoisted him up the wall by his collar. "How long has it been since Saruman bought you?" he hissed. "What was the promised price, Grima? That when all men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?"

It was then Eowyn passed us, her eyes first moving to me and then to where her brother held Grima. Grima's eyes met hers a moment, and then they looked to me, but Eomer shook him. "Too long have you haunted my sister's steps," I heard him say, and I watched Eowyn leave.

Meduseld's guards moved to pull Eomer back, and I rushed to his side, ever loyal to my liege. Two other guards held me back, men I'd known my whole life. "You see much, Eomer, son of Eomen," I heard Grima announce, and I turned my eyes to him. He was holding a document, one I recognized. "Too much. You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan."

"You have no authority here!" Eomer railed, a scowl on his face as he fought those holding him. "You orders mean nothing!"

"These orders do not come from me," Grima said, smirk widening. "They come from the king. He signed it this morning."

"No!" I shouted, nearly using the voice my mother had gifted me with upon birth. No one seemed to notice however, as Eomer was dragged away. I struggled to get to his side, and I heard one of my captors ask what was to be done with me.

"Throw him in with the marshal," Grima ordered. "One is as dangerous as the other."

We were dragged down the steps of the Golden Hall and thrown to the ground outside. Hama's face was regretful, even apologetic. "You have one day to ride beyond Rohan's borders," he instructed us, throwing our weapons to us. "If you are found within this country by the stroke of midnight tomorrow, you will be put to the death in the swiftest execution of law." I took Eomer's hand as he got to his feet, allowing him to help me stand, and I looked up to see Hama's eyes move from mine to Eomer's. "Ride hard," he said softly, turning away.

"What are you thinking of?"

I open my eyes sleepily, jolted out of my memory dream. Fingers softly caress my hair, drawing the strands back from my face. I look up, not removing my head from my lover's breast, my light brown eyes meeting chocolate. "The past," I say softly, resting my chin on his strong chest, my arms reaching up so that my hands lay on his shoulders. "Our last few months."I push myself up on an elbow. "Eomer, promise me that whatever happens, you will go on with life."

His eyes search mine, hands enclosing my face. "Lyris..." There is pain there, but I see that strength in his eyes, uncertain as it is. "I will promise- but only if you swear the same to me."

There is silence, and I know I must promise him this. I wonder of life without him, of a Rohan without her new Second Marshal. Without him, I, who am now Third Marshal, would become the Second Marshal, and if the king fell-

I stop my thoughts and lower myself, kissing him softly. "I promise," I whisper. "Now that that is settled, let us look now to happy thoughts- happy thoughts and memories."

His brows furrow as he stares into me, but his eyes are dreamy, and I know he is thinking of our triumphant ride into Helm's Deep. His hands caress my head as I close my eyes again, listening to the rhythm of his heart. My own mind drifts, and it is not long before I begin to think of that ride as well.

It was beautiful.

There is perhaps no happier time for a Rohirrim than when he is atop his horse, and I was no different. It is often said that a Rider loves his horse more than his wife; I do not know if this is true, but it is certain that I love my mare Redylfeld nearly as much as I love Eomer- and as we approached the hill, I could feel her anxiety.

Mithrandir led us to the pass, where he and Eomer stood for a moment to gaze at the scene below. I stood behind Eomer faithfully, the helm upon my head shining in the sun, my eyes waiting for the signal. Finally, it came. "Forth, Eorlingas!"

Redylfeld fluidly exploded into motion as the call went out, her exhilaration and my adrenaline riding at equally high motion. It was not long before she had caught up to Hirithalas, and as Eomer pounded down the mountain, I and Gandalf the Grey rode at his sides. My blood sang in my veins as we crashed into the Uruk forces, breaking like waves on the shore, the clang of swords ringing in the air. I slashed the head from an Uruk as I entered the fray, then tore out a throat with the tip of my sword, dragging it across to plunge into the eye of a third. Redylfeld and Hirithlas kept perfect stride even whilst wading through the Uruk ranks, allowing Eomer and I to execute a series of coordinated attacks. We were one unit, one force, one soul. Six years, but that moment set into motion the culmination of tonight.

_And now we ride to Gondor in the morning,_ I think, and though under the covers, held in the arms of the man I love and who loves me, I cannot help but feel a coldness creep into my heart. I feel lips at my forehead, and I sigh, snuggling tighter against him. The words of King Theoden come to me: "No, we cannot defeat them. But we will meet them in battle nonetheless."

We will meet them in battle, but will we be victorious? Aragorn, the elf, and the dwarf have left our forces. It is they, part of a team, that led the rest of the Eorlingas to victory at Helm's Deep- without them, I wonder just how high our chances of success can be. I wonder if I will lose my life, or if both I and Eomer will succumb to battle.

More importantly, I wonder if Eomer will be taken and I let to live.

I draw in a sigh, resolving to be strong. _A Rider's first loyalty is king, over love, over land, over pride._ Eomer's voice echoes in my head. _"Riders of Rohan! Oaths you have taken! Now let them be fulfilled!"_ Yes, oaths I have taken- not only to king, though, but to friend, to lover... An oath to go on, no matter what happens. An oath I will keep.

_An oath I will keep, _I think drowsily as I fall asleep.


	2. Betrothed of the First Marshal

((All right, so my original intent _was_ to let Lyris go out with a bang at the Battle of the Black Gate, but I've found myself wondering if it might not just be more fun to go AU with it. And it's all your fault too. I really have appreciated your reviews though, and really I'm flattered that you liked the story. I hope this installment lives up to your expectations, and thank you soo so much... here's what I've been able to churn out in the meantime. ;;))

It was a day for battle, a day that made the blood sing as it rushed through my veins.

"Arise! Arise, Riders of Theoden!"

Even as I followed Eomer into battle, the words of my king echoed out across the fields of Pelennor, ringing in my ears. His voice was strong, strong and clear as it had ever been, and though I rode away, I did not have to strain to catch it. "Spears shall be shaken- spears shall be splintered! A sword day, a new day, as the sun rises!" Eomer raised a hand and we came to position, rearranging ourselves and lowering our spears. The Orcs, who had noticed us by now, hunkered down as well, meeting our cold stares as our beloved king rode before our ranks, spreading his luck into our spears as he clashed his sword against them. I felt the surge of his blade against my own spear, and I smiled grimly, tightening my grip. "Ride now!" he cried as he continued his charge. "Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin, and the world ending!" He finished and turned to face our armies, pumping his fist into the air. "Death!"

"Death!" we shouted.

"Death!"

"Death!"we echoed.

"DEATH!"

"DEATH!" arose our thunder.

Theoden turned to face us, then whirled to face our enemies. "FORTH, EORLINGAS!"

A single horn took up the kings order, followed by ten, then my own and twenty others, then fifty, then every horn present let its strong voice ring.

Our charge was slow at first, but we gained speed, every horse in motion, every one in tune. We pounded forward, those closest to the king pulling ahead, forming our entire force into a deadly arrow. I rode beside Eomer, Redylfeld and Hirithlas' hoof beats thudding as one. The Uruks let fly as we approached, and a Rider fell beside me, but our charge could not be slowed. We pressed on, eyes full of fire.

As we approached, I noted the Orcs' eyes widen with grim satisfaction. "For Rohan!" I shouted as I ran my first kill through, and continued bashing my way into the Mordor ilk. I, Lyris, daughter of Eormis, was back in my element, a first since my king had fallen to Grima's poisoned words. Now, the world was aright once more, and though I knew I could lose the man I loved, I embraced the battle with my soul.

Eomer and I were separated, but that was no matter. I trusted him and he trusted me, and so we continued our assault, our forces spreading out as our momentum slowed. The carnage continued for an hour or so when suddenly, the battlefield seemed to grow deathly quiet.

I yanked my sword from the Orc who had just received a fatal stab to his heat and turned upon noting my king's stunned face. My eyes widen impossibly as I saw the behemoths who had captured his attention- Mumakil, creatures I had heard word of, but never seen. They were giants, oliphants decked out in the garb of war, groups of soldiers atop their backs. I felt my mouth drop at the sight.

"Merciful Illuvatar," I heard someone whisper.

"Merciful indeed," I murmured and spurred Redylfeld forward, horse and rider of one mind. We charged with a group of others, I drawing my bow and firing as Red worked to keep me on her back whilst maintaining a steady speed. I released and ducked as she darted through the Mumakil's legs, circling around and running from the creature. My eyes fell on Eomer and we picked up speed, racing for him. Hirithlas slowed his pace just enough for Redylfeld to catch him, and then Eomer wheeled him around, as I did with Red.

I saw Eomer's eyes fall on the Southerling general, raising his spear and adjusting his grip. He waited a moment, two, and then threw it, impaling the man through the heart, sending him down from his perch, ripping into the Mumakil's ear and bringing the animal down. I watched in awe as it crashed into a second, flattening more than a few Southerlings under it. I looked to Eomer as he turned to me, a faint grin upon his features.

"Not a word," I warned.

Eomer laughed and turned, drawing his bow and fitting and arrow. "Aim for their heads!" he commanded, and we were quick to follow. I heard Theoden's call to bring the animals down as well, and I heeded it, burying two missiles to their shafts in the eye of a beast.

We then continued to fight valiantly, dispatching Orcs as we maneuvered our way around fallen bodies until Theoden called us to him. We rallied, and then I heard the cry that changed our kingdom.

Like a black arrow out of the sky, a winged beast of the Nazgul swept down upon the King. I turned to Eomer with a cry, but he was nowhere to be seen. Rather than waste time looking for him, I galloped in an attempt to protect my liege, but the Nazgul picked him up within seconds, tossing him like a rag doll even closer to me. I felt my blood begin to boil, and I snapped Redylfeld's reins, moving in front of the fallen man, my sword drawn.

"Liomen! Stand down!" I heard my King call, but I heeded him not. I swung at the fell beast's head as it snapped at me, but Redylfeld shrieked in abhorrence, and the jaws clamped down on her throat. "RED!" I screamed, fighting to disentangle myself before she went down. However, the head of the monster caught me about the middle, launching me spinning into the air, to land with a sick thud yards away. I lay there, too shocked to continue, gasping to find my breath. The pain was incredible, gripping my body in its cold grasp. Eomer... Where was Eomer?

"Eomer," I whispered as the darkness claimed me.

When I awoke next, sunlight was streaming in through a window, illuminating the white stone that was all around me. Heavy blankets covered me, and it seemed as though every bone in my body was screaming in outrage. I tried to prop myself up, but let out a groan of pain and gave up, letting myself fall back in the pillow, gasping for breath. As I panted, my ears caught whispers in the hall.

"My King... Liomen... he... she's a... a woman."

I feel the breath catch in my throat, staring at the ceiling, face paling considerably, only now realizing my hair was down. _My secret... Theoden knows…_ Suddenly the road I'd always imagined lay before seemed to vanish into dust. The life I thought I was destined to live crumbled into dust, destroyed by a simple accident. Still, I did not regret the decision I'd made- if the king lived, my goal had been completed, and I had done my duty. In fact, perhaps that fact alone could save me. Perhaps the deeds I'd done during battle-

I broke off my thoughts as Eomer and Hama entered the room. Eomer's was uncomfortable, and Hama's uncertain. Despite the searing pain in my limbs, I forced myself up, suddenly extra-conscious of the linen wrapping I wore about my chest, revealing my gender. I winced, waiting for Theoden to enter and the blow to fall. However, it never did, and I looked up in surprise. "Where... where is the King?" I didn't bother to mask my voice; Hama knew.

"Eomer, son of Eomen, is your King now," Hama said gruffly, gesturing to the poor man. I met his eyes in shock, unable to believe it. _The King has fallen? No..._ Eomer nodded, and I felt a punch in my gut.

Memories of my charge to defend the king assaulted me. I had failed. Despite my advancement and my battle to be on top as an equal or better to any man in the force, I had failed in a Rider's paramount task, failed to protect my liege. Was I, then, inferior? Was a woman, in reality, weaker than a man? Had I been wrong to fight against such gender bias all these years?

Was I, finally, weak?

"Leave us, and tell not another soul." I looked back up as Hama glanced to his new King and nodded, pulling the door shut behind him as he left. Eomer began to pace, my eyes following his every move. Finally he stopped, and looked at me. "Lyris..."

"I understand if you must expel me," I said lowly, casting my eyes down. "Now that the men know..."

"Dammit, Lyris, I'm not kicking you out." His pacing quickened, and I could almost feel his agitation. "I don't care what they call for me to do. You're my best soldier- I just don't know how the hell I'm going to take going to the Black Gates without you."

"What?" I sat straight up in bed, my eyes fixing on him. "The Black Gates? Without me? No, my liege, that simply will not do." I threw off the covers, looking around for my clothes. Eomer averted his eyes, his face still turning slightly red at the sight of me. I rummaged around in the drawers, cursing softly. _Now where did those damned healers put my gear…_

"Lyris, you can't go. There's no way." Eomer's tone was firm.

I stopped and looked at my new King, raising a brow. "I thought you weren't expelling me?" I challenged.

"I'm not," Eomer snapped. "I'm telling you that you're not going." He began to pace again. "This is a fight to the death. I don't know if there's any coming back."

"All the more reason for me to accompany you, then." I found my trousers and pulled them on, wincing slightly at my ribs. I must have broken a couple. _Oh, well, no matter._ I'd worry about it later. "If you're heading into death," I said, looking up to meet his eyes, "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not." He crossed the space between us, taking my hand in his. "Lyris," he pleaded, "If I fall, I need you here at home. I need someone to lead the kingdom in my absence, to make sure the remaining Riders fight the Darkness as long as they can."

"Then leave the kingdom to Eowyn," I replied, meeting his gaze with a stare of my own. "Theoden entrusted it to her before we left for Minas Tirith- your sister will long keep Rohan from the clutches of the enemy. I am not needed."

"You are," he contended. "Eowyn will need a general- you shall be her First Marshal and trusted advisor."

"And husband?"

Eomer winced, and we both sighed. It was common knowledge that the White Lady of Rohan was more than kindly disposed to Liomen, son of Eormis- twice had Theoden suggested a match between his niece and his nephew's lieutenant might be generously looked upon. The situation was the envy of most Rohirrim men- a guarantee into the royal family- but to me, it was nothing but a thorn, for obvious reasons.

"No, not as her husband," Eomer conceded. "We will have to tell the rest of Rohan at some point…"

"In our own time, then," I assured him. I glanced down to my hands, which were in Eomer's. I still wore only wrapped linen. "Now… Requesting permission to continue dressing?"

Eomer blushed hotly and turned around. "Only if it's not in your riding gear."

"I'm going, Eomer." I opened a closet and found my tunic, chain mail, and other necessities. I began to pull them on. "And don't order me to remain, for now I am Second Marshal _and_ your intended."

"Which means?"

"Which means now that I'm a woman again, you can't order me around."

"A man reserves the right to guide his wife."

"I'm not your wife yet. And if that's the way you're going to be when I am, you can keep the ring."

I heard an aggravated sigh behind me and I smiled. Victory can taste so very sweet.

"Fine. Do what you will."

I laughed, slipping my mail shirt over my head. Years ago, when I was new to the experience, I remember thinking mail the most infuriating of man's inventions. Heavy, constricting, agitating, and of course it had the impressive ability to always rub healing wounds raw- much like Eomer after he's lost an argument.

Of course, I have come to love them both.

"Are you done?" His voice was testy, but after so many years, I knew he had already moved on and accepted his loss.

"Not by far," I replied, settlingthe Second Marshal's helm upon my head.


	3. Battle To End All Battles

((Well, here we are, at Chapter Three... This may be the last, but I'm highly doubting it. I'm feeling a #4- Lyris just refuses to go away, it seems. Ah well- you all know how hardheaded she can be. At any rate, I'd really like to thank you all for your reviews- especially the correction on Eomund. I went back, read the story through again, stopped, blinked, and said "Well, what do you know. I did screw up." So thanks. I'll try not to make any more mistakes, but I can't garauntee anything. Okay! Well, I'll stop yabbering. Chapitre Trois!))

The day is bleak- there is simply no other way to describe it. I am tense; I sit beside Eomer with an expression that could curdle milk.

My eyes move silently to my right as Aragorn and his companion come riding to the front. I have much respect for this man; he had been thrust into a position he hadn't wanted, and yet he had handled the situation magnificently. I suppose eventually resignation brings us all round to reason- it certainly did in Eomer's case, after all. I take a breath and steady myself, a faint smile coming to my features. Lyris one, Eomer nothing.

Once Aragorn joins the rank of leaders, we stand silently, staring ahead at the gates that stand equally silent, gates that have stood for ages before my ancestors ever walked the plains of Rohan. I feel a sudden quail in my heart- who am I, Lyris, a mere woman masquerading in a man's game, hope to prove here? I had failed in everything thus far- my king was dead, and I was exposed. What more besides death can I hope to gain, here, when so many like me had fallen in lesser conflicts?

I tighten my fist around the reins and shake it off, well aware of the devices the Dark Lord can employ to dissuade his enemies. I will not be so easily conquered. My former king has fallen, yes, but I have a new king to protect now, a king whom I love more than life, and perhaps my exposition has been for the best. Besides… If death awaits me here, so be it. I have not balked at death before.

Finally, Pippin's voice breaks the silence. "Where are they?" he whispers, and indeed, I am sure the rest of us would like to know too.

Aragorn's face grows grimmer, and he rides forward, the White Wizard, Eomer, the elf prince, our smaller companions, and I trailing behind. We approach, grim-faced and uncertain all. We rein in. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn call. "Let justice be done upon him!"

A moment of silence passes, then two. A few glance about, trying to discern some type of movement atop the gates. I feel the mare shudder beneath me, and I pat her neck once to calm her, glancing to Eomer as well. Hirithlas snorts and shifts, easily sensing his rider's agitation.

"Eomer." The word is nearly silent, and I can tell as he glances to me he is the only one who has heard. Slowly, very slowly, I cross my eyes and let them go back. Eomer glares at me, though I can tell he is trying very hard to suppress a laugh. I grin at him.

He is used to this sort of inanity by now.

We both look up sharply as the gate begins to open. I stare ahead, half-anxious and half-dreading to see what will come through that door. I expect armies, but when my eyes fall to their natural level, I see only a single rider, hideous and purely evil. I feel my shoulders stiffen and my gaze heat, the hairs on my neck raising to stand on end.

There is no face to this rider. Only a mouth, filled with crooked and yellow teeth, gapes from his face like it was formed from a rip, lipless and leering. I feel myself shudder, feel an inherent bloodlust I have never felt before. I want to savage this… thing, want to slash it and tear it and spatter its blood over the ground. I want to hear it choke on its own blood, watch in grim satisfaction as the breath leaves its body. I want to kill, and I want to kill now.

I shudder, shocked at my own emotions. Never have I been so violent. I look to Eomer again, and he seems uncertain, unsure of himself- not the Eomer I know. "Eomer." His eyes clear and he looks to me, a grim expression. I nod. Again, we push the subtle intrusion of the Dark Lord from our spirits.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," the creature rasps. Again I am filled with a disgust, and again I suppress the urge to kill. He seems to gaze around, though how he manages with no eyes is beyond my comprehension. He approximates a sneer, and this time my lip curls before I can stop it, my knuckles whitening around the reins. "Is there anyone in this throng with the authority to entreat me?" he scorns.

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed." Gandalf's voice is authoritative as always. As if by some magic, the blood bubbling in my veins cools to a faint simmer, and I feel my tense muscles relax slightly. "Tell your master this: the armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The thing, the Mouth, lets out something that is neither cough nor laugh, but certainly a noise of derision. "Old Greybeard," it mocks. "I have a token I am bidden to show thee." He pulls something from a pack and holds it up. My heart leaps to my throat in hot, bitter disbelief.

The halfling's mithril shirt.

Gimli sighs, and Pippin says what we have all been dreading- "Frodo." The Mouth lets out another noise and tosses it to the Wizard, who catches it with a single hand. I glance to Eomer, worry lining my face. He refuses to meet my eyes, staring instead at the shirt. I know what he is thinking by now. Perhaps, if he just believes enough and wills it to not be so, it will not be. It is a foolish hope that all of us cling to in the hours of darkness- a hope which every one of us knows can never be so.

"Frodo!" Pippin cries out.

"Silence," Gandalf bids.

I can see the pain in Pippin's eyes, and I swallow. "No!" he cries out again. Again, the wizard cuts him off with a command of silence. I can sympathize with the poor creature- how many times would I have been bidden to hold my tongue, if I had not played my masquerade?

"The halfling was dear to you, I see," the thing surmises, grinning liplessly. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his hosts."

I close my eyes just a moment, feeling the sickness rising within. So it has failed. No bright tomorrow awaits Middle Earth- instead, only a barren, black plague that will consume all. There is no hope left- and what have I lived my life for? For what, then, has been all my play-acting? For what has been all the slaying I have done, of Orcs, of Uruks, of men? For what has been glory? For what has my life, and the lives of these others been?

Should I simply surrender myself at this moment?

"Who would have thought one so small could have endured so much pain?" The thing pauses to allow the effect to sink in. "And he did, Gandalf. He did." He mocks us with another breath.

I am trying to find the fire in my veins that usually runs so rampant when Aragorn nudges his horse into a walk and approaches the Mouth. "And who is this?" it scorns. "Ilsildur's heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken elvish blade."

Aragorn smiles, and then all at once Anduril comes up in a flash, severing the abomination's head from its shoulders. With its death comes the return of the fire. I sense the independence swell up again, and my lips uncurl and form a grim smile.

"Looks like negotiations are closed," the dwarf notes.

Aragorn wheels his protesting mount about, fixing us all with a gaze filled with icy fire. "I do not believe it!" he announces. Gandalf stares at him, and Aragorn intensifies his stare. "I will not."

"Hear, hear," I add, and Eomer looks to me, then to Aragorn, and I think I catch a faint flash of jealousy. I want to laugh- Eomer has nothing to fear from me where Ilsildur's Heir is concerned. He could never handle me as well as the new King of Rohan does, and besides, there is already too much of a fight for his heart. I am loyal to my First Marshal, now and til the end of days.

Of course, the end of days may arrive in naught but a few hours.

The Black Gates begin to open, and Aragorn turns as we all look up. Through the widening chasm between the gates, all the Hosts of Mordor have gathered, beating and shouting their war cries. "Fall back," Aragorn commands, but we can only stare in open defiance. "Pull back!" he shouts again. "Pull BACK!"

This time we heed his call, and I and Eomer turn with the others, riding back to our armies. They shuffle their feet nervously, and in truth, I cannot blame me. One young soldier, a boy I have mentored for years, looks to me in uncertainty. I give him a grin and a wink- he has avoided me since my exposé, but now he smiles back, gripping his spear a little tighter. I am proud of him.

"Hold your ground!" Aragorn commands. "Hold your ground!

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan!" he calls out, driving his horse in front of the armies, "my brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come, when the courage of men fail, when we forsake our friends and break all vows of fellowship! But it not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

The sound of drawing sword fills the air, and we hold them aloft as our commander turns to face the Hordes of the Evil One. He raises his sword in defiance, and beside Eomer, I feel my soul complete. _This!_ my mind exults. _This is what you have lived for! To protect what you love, to come out glorious in victory, or to go down in a fiery trail! The final reckoning, the battle of all battles- _this,_ Lyris, daughter of Eormis, this is what you were born for!_

_Which is all very well and good,_ speaks up another little part of my mind, _because you're going to need something._

We are surrounded.

A small metallic screech is heard, and I glance down. Even Pippin has drawn his short sword. I glance to Eomer again. He surveys the situation slowly, his eyes roving over the army until they meet mine. There is a smoldering confidence there, the dashing spirit that I have always so loved in him. He smirks, and I return it, our eyes sharing an unspoken promise. Should one of us fall, we will not grieve. Indeed, this is the battle of our lifetime- we should be glad we were born to fight it.

"For Rohan." The thrill of the challenge is in his voice, and I smile.

He reaches out, and we punch our mailed fists together. The dwarf and the elf are bantering about something again, but I pay it no heed.

"For Rohan," I reply, my eyes glittering with anticipation.

We face the hordes, but a whisper is in my head. _Elessar,_ it calls. _Aragorn..._

I look sharply to Aragorn, who begins to walk forward. His face is uncertain, but I resist the urge to call out to him, wondering if this can be true. He lowers his sword, then turns to face us. "For Frodo," he whispers.

He rushes forward.

The two halflings run after him, shouting, and I scream out a war cry, leading the thunder at my Marshal's side. We crash into the throng of Orcs and Uruks, my blood singing as black fluid spatters my leather armor. My strikes seem to come to me preternaturally, anticipating each enemy's blow and blocking it, my sword striking true at every angle. Eomer and I form a whirlwind together, nearly unstoppable in the symmetry of our strokes.

We are perfect complements, halves of a whole. He is General, and I am Lieutenant. He is Marshal, and I am Rider. He is King, and I am Subject. He is Earth, and I am Fire. He is Air, and I am Water.

He is Man, and I am Woman.

A screech wracks the air, and I glance up to see a sight that makes my blood run cold; a fell beast of the Nazgul, the very same which had taken my king and rendered me powerless to stop it. My heart skips a beat, but then a great brow blur swoops down and then up, tackling the beast and fending it off. "The Eagles!" I hear Pippin cry. "The Eagles are coming!"A smile breaks across my face. Thank Illuvatar for His blessings.

Perhaps I speak too soon.

The Nazgul wheel away, speeding back from whence they came. The battle seems to take a turn for the worst- the Mordor ilk seem to be gaining the upper hand. Desperately, I fight even harder, hoping to inspire those around me. _Be not faint of heart, _I plead. _Hold to your conviction._

But even I cannot take my advice. The battle grows heavy in my limbs; I fade, reverting into defensive strokes. A blade whistles down for my throat- I block it, carrying the foul sword away and angling mine into the offending Uruk's side. Another seeks to bite deep into my side, but I work up the will to whip my blade around, slicing off the hand. I drive my sword into the stomach of the beast, but I stiffen with a gasp.

"Lyris!"

I blink, looking down to see a thick, feathered shaft sprouting from my chest, black arrows marking it as Mordor craft. Eomer is there in a heartbeat, supporting me with one arm whilst fighting off Uruks with his sword. I shake my head and irritably shuffle his arm off, breaking the very tip of the bolt off. "Take it easy, Lyris!" he commands, but I grip my sword again.

"There's no help for it now," I mutter, and join him again, ignoring the slight trickle of blood leaking its way around the bolt. I wonder if it has punctured anything- in any case, I am not dead yet, and I steel my resolve.

Another Uruk dies, but I pay with a gash on my shoulder. We cannot hope to continue this much longer. Eomer stumbles back, his leather armor darkening as blood seeps through a wound on his hip. "All right?" I ask. He makes no answer, just shakes it off and continues to fight.

The fight is dying.

A small space clears, and Eomer looks to me as he gasps for breath. My own breathing is labored, hampered by the protrusion in my torso. Our eyes meet, and we are silent a moment as we strive for the oxygen to speak. Finally, he says it. "Lyris... I love you."

I feel the ring on my finger grow warm suddenly, and a warmth fills me. "I love you too, Eomer," I reply, holding his gaze. This may be our last moment- surely it will be, for neither of us move to join the clash again. Instead, we stand, locked in our personal moment.

We both jump and look startledly as a scream rips through the air, projected from high in the air. The Eye of Sauron is afire, as always, but this time it is consumed, turning in on itself. Everyone stops to stare.

Then, suddenly, like a miracle, a loud crack fills the atmosphere, and the tower starts to fall in on itself. Still afire, the Eye begins to topple, glancing about wildly as if some underling would save it. It swells, then contracts, and I feel my own eyes fill with tears of relief. Like an earthquake, a shockwave erupts from where seconds ago the Dark Lord had come to realize his end, rocking the very core of Middle Earth.

Merry screams Frodo's name in jubilation; I leap, wrapping my arms around Eomer's neck. Fiercely his mouth captures mine, and she share a passionate kiss, holding each other tight. We have won; we have triumphed. Frodo has delivered the Ring, and the salvation of Middle Earth. We have fought this last battle and cleared his path. We have given our all- we have gambled with the dice of Fate and won.

We have fought the battle to end all battles.

The shockwave reaches us, causing Eomer to lose his grip and me to find my feet rather quickly. We glance to our right- the ground is caving in on itself, opening up into a chasm that in seconds will threaten to engulf us as well. Still, I cannot move- all I can see is the spouts of fire reaching up into the dismal sky as Mount Doom erupts. _What of the halfling? _I wonder, a deep anguish burrowing in my heart. _Will he be granted no quarter?_

"Frodo," I whisper. Eomer's strong arms pull me into an embrace, and I sag against him. My ribs cry out in pain and the arrow jostles in my flesh, causing my eyes to close. Every wound I have suffered quietly makes itself known, reminding me no human is invincible. But I am warm. I am in Eomer's arms, and I am safe.

I slip into blackness.


	4. Upon Waking

(Well, next chapter. It isn't much, but I wanted to throw something up to just let you guys know I was going to continue it- and I think, maybe, I'll make it AU and see where Lyris and Eomer head. I've got some ideas mulling around... yes, it might be fun to continue. :D Incidentally, there was a thread recently on on writers- if anyone is a Subeta user, by all means, drop me a line at SilverTrio. Anyways... I was going to continue this bit a tad farther, but I rather liked the thought of ending it where I did, and I need to get running to my 2 and a half hour English class.)

_Drifting. Black night. The sound of wolves in the distance- the horses whinnying in the darkness. Nervous; I've never done this before. "Here, down on your knees, girl," Father commands, and I obey, kneeling beside him. Alyfeld lying on her side, great wide brown eyes like saucers, her belly heaving. "Keep her calm, Lyris. The foal will be your responsibility- you will raise, train, and bond with it. A rider is only as good as his mount…"_

_Redylfeld's screams. I heard her go down- the Nazgul. Her frightened shriek seconds before darkness. I hadn't thought upon waking- too much, what with Hama discovering and Eomer taking command. I'd asked Eomer what happened to her. "After the battle," was all he'd said, avoiding my eyes. I'd felt the cold fear pierce my spine, but I'd ignored it for the moment; we were moving out and I had Eomer to be strong for…_

_The sound of someone weeping. "Don't leave me…" Wetness on my cheek. "Please."_

_A spasm of pain; I thrash. "My lord, you cannot be here." A sense of loss. I thrash again. I cannot move. My neck feels as thought it's snapped. I can't move, I can't move, I can't- Somewhere in the apex of my vision, a bright light sparks and expands. I hear voices, ethereal. I cannot sit in the halls of heroes; everyone knows a woman cannot… I cannot fool them… I refuse… _

"_Lyris!" Someone yelling. …Eomer? I'm coming, don't worry, they know I cannot sit here, I know-_

"Let me in! How is she! Lyris! Can you hear me- Lyris!"

"My Lord, please! The poison still runs in her veins, she may not-"

"If you were worried about me waking, it's a little late."

I fully come into consciousness as the last syllable slips through my lips, alerted to the throbbing in my head and the refusal of my limbs to move. Another spasm of pain shoots up my spine, but I force it down, grimacing. Cool air fills my lungs, and I know somehow that the worst is finally over. My muscles tense, but they relax, and I exhale. I attempt to flex them, praying my paralysis is only an imagined thing. I try and raise my arm.

It is not; my arm refuses to move.

The bitter taste of defeat washes through my mouth, but I swallow it, reminding myself I am lucky to have lived, and that for right now, I should be grateful. I force my eyes open as the sound of an anxious marshal rushes to my bedside, kneeling, and I glance to Eomer, managing a smile. Oh, the healing power of his presence- suddenly my immobility does not matter anymore; it is only Eomer I am concerned about. His eyes are wide and his expression is confused- my mind brings up the memory of a young marshal being thrown from his horse, and the hours of mirth I enjoyed afterwards. "It's all right," I whisper with a smile, trying to reassure him. "It's all right, I'm okay."

"The hell you are." Eomer's voice is scared, shaking, and I feel him pick up my hand and cover my knuckles in kisses. "Valar, Lyris- I thought you were dead, I thought I'd lost you, and…" He breaks off, resting his head against my abdomen. "Valar, Lyris, I order you to never, ever frighten me like that again, do you hear me!"

A weak chuckle escapes my lips. "As my King commands." He raises his head, scowling slightly, and all I can do is smile back.

"I'm never going to get used to that," he murmurs, shaking his head and rising to sit next to me on the edge of my sickbed. "Illuvatar, Lyris." He shakes his head, and I offer a grin.

"Oh come, now," I say softly, looking up to him. "Did you think I was honestly going to go anywhere you weren't?" He looks to me with those deep brown eyes, eyes that I can see getting misty. "Besides," I reassure him with a smile, "someone is going to have to keep an eye on you, and I would hate to make someone else shoulder that great burden."

"It is a trial, no doubt."

Both Eomer's and my eyes dart to the doorway, meeting intense blue eyes, and eyebrows I am accustomed to seeing raised. Men are often given to nights of camaraderie when traveling together, and in my time posing as one, I am proud to be able to claim I spent more than a few hours discussing the finer points of life with he who is now leader of Gondor. I scowl slightly. "Have you no respect for a personal moment, Ranger?"

"Calm, good Rider." The corners of Aragorn's mouth twitch in good humor. "I come as a healer to his patient, no more, I swear."

"Indeed. Well, at least I see you've bathed," I manage to croak out in good nature, earning a faint smile for my efforts. "Is my paralysis, then, an aftereffect of your state of cleanliness?"

"She's feeling better," Eomer notes dryly.

"No, my friend, I am afraid my bathing habits have not affected your health, though it is indeed your paralysis that's brought me here." Aragorn walks over, gravely lifting a hand and turning it over to examine the flesh. Eomer and I both are staring at him with breath stuck in our throats, knowing full well his talents in the field of healing, especially after Lady Eowyn's encounter with the Witchking- I begin to wonder if he knows something I do not. Could he, perhaps- no. I quash the hope. "You were poisoned with a particular sort of Morgul concoction," he says, gently setting my hand down. "You are lucky to have survived."

"You almost didn't," Eomer adds, fixing me with a look as if it is my fault that I'm in the situation I am. "You've been out for quite some time- I was starting to think you would never awaken."

"I'm starting to wonder if I should have." Unbidden, the bitter taste rises in my mouth again. "If I cannot move-"

"It will pass, Lyris." Hearing someone aside from Eomer call me by my given name causes me to blink, and I feel a warmth inside, a relief that he is not going to allow my sex to come between the camaraderie shared between us all in wartime. I wonder if perhaps he hadn't guessed all along; indeed, I would not be surprised. Aragorn_is_ rather observant, after all… And, perhaps, something of a miracle worker.

I force myself to swallow, asking the question I am almost afraid to utter. "Does that mean-"

"Possibly. Your muscles have locked themselves, is all." Aragorn looks at me thoughtfully, ignoring Eomer's fidgeting. "In fact…"

I watch as he lifts up my arm and bends it, earning a gasp from me as my joint seems to break in half. He works it back and forth, repeating his action with the other one, with the same pain. Then it is time for my legs, and he gestures for Eomer to lift me off of the bed. I feel slightly like a rag doll as Eomer pulls me forward, and I sigh in resignation. My knees and elbows throb, but I steel myself, preferring the pain to helplessness.

Eomer catches the sigh and murmurs. "You know, if you would have stayed behind like I had ordered you, you wouldn't be in the position you are, now, would you?"

"And if you weren't so bloody infuriating about your ordering, I might have listened," I retort. I open my mouth to say something else, but there is a sharp jab to my lower back and I gasp at the brief pain shooting up my spine.

"If you weren't so bloody hardheaded, I wouldn't have had to be so bloody infuriating, now would I?"

"If you weren't so bloody thick, I wouldn't be so bloody hardheaded." I wince and bite down as there's another crack directly above the last.

"If you hadn't been so bloody free with your spear when we were younger, I might not have turned out quite so bloody thick."

"Well, if you would have been a bit more competent, I wouldn't have had to have been- do you MIND?"

Another crack earns another sharp intake. "No, by all means," Aragorn murmurs innocently, "continue your debate. Do not allow me to stop you."

Eomer and I both let out a sigh, slightly sheepish. I feel two thumbs on the back of my neck and eight fingers on my shoulder. I start to say something, and then something explodes where my neck and back connect, and I involuntary cry out as the warmth spreads down my spine and through my limbs. I shake slightly as I draw in a breath, readjusting myself and trying to shake it off. "Try to move now," Aragorn instructs.

I take a breath. "Are you sure that…" I stop my own voice, gaping at my own digits, which are toying with the bedsheet as they are wont to do when I am anxious or worried. They stop, one finger raising and tapping on my leg. It stops. All five curl. "Great-"

The covers fly off as I run to the wardrobe, and both men quickly hide their eyes, despite the fact that I am fully covered by my bedsheet as I dig for my clothes. "Eomer! My gear- where in the nine hells are my clothes?"

"Perhaps try the closet?" Aragorn suggests, sighing as he stares at the ceiling. I rip open the closet door, eager to pull on my-

…Dress?

"You have got to be kidding me," I say aloud.


End file.
